Patchwork
by Oparu
Summary: AU, written for Dragon Queen Week on tumblr. Regina arrives too late to save Snow White and amends the Dark Curse in a desperate effort to save the child of her greatest enemy, who suddenly needs a mother. Somehow, in that struggle, she saves herself.


**_Notes_**

 _Written for day 4, the Cursed in Storybrooke AU. I had this screwy dark idea that Mal ended up raising Emma, this is the angstiest version of that. Plenty of bizarre magic weirdness because my brain wouldn't let this one go. There's a ton of Regina and Snow in this, and Mal's Regina's lifeline. (there is a happy ending). Descriptions of childbirth and death in childbirth._

* * *

She throws the guards into the wall, letting them fall to the ground. They are nothing. The curse rolls at her back, promising to sweep all this away, to take them far from here to a world without happy endings.

Except her own.

Regina clings to that idea, that somehow, in a new place, she will finally be happy.

Victory over Snow White will set her free from the anger, the madness, the hunger for something she can never have.

It's not victory she finds in Snow White's tower. The guards fall before her, so many soldiers, all down, like wood inside metal, tumbling over stone. They don't matter, only Snow White and the baby that might doom them all.

When she enters Snow White's bedroom, the sweetness of victory turns to ash in her mouth because the room reeks of blood. David sits in the bed, cradling Snow- perhaps holding her body, because the blood in the sheets is surely all she had. He looks up at her, eyes glassy. The wound in his side is his, and their blood mingles. One of the knights must have reached him, and they're here together.

Dying.

"Finally," he whispers, kissing Snow's white forehead. "Regina's here. She'll finish it."

Finish them.

Snow's hair clings to her head, jet black against her skin which is whiter than snow, almost grey, translucent, because all of her blood is in the bed and there's no child. This birth was a funeral, not a beginning.

Regina stops, halts, because her stomach turns and she's almost sick. She's seen death, imagined it, prayed for this death over and over, and now, reaching for Snow's hand, it holds no joy.

"Something went wrong," David says, looking at her without seeing. "She just kept bleeding and-"

Snow's eyelashes flutter. She can't possibly still be alive, this creature doesn't even look human. Her fingers twitch in Regina's hand, and in spite of everything, the death threats, their endless fighting, she looks up at Regina and smiles.

"Save the baby."

"I'm here to kill the baby," Regina says, but the words are hollow. Who cares about the curse if it won't take Snow White? What does it matter if the curse breaks when Snow's already gone.

"You won't." Snow's voice already sounds like a ghost. "If I'm gone, what does it matter if she breaks your curse?"

"She?"

Snow moves her head a fraction, trying to nod. "Her name is Emma." Her breath shudders. "Thank you, Regina." The hand in Regina's slips from her grasp, cold and limp.

The curse roils below them, rushing in as the windows shatter, rushing in dark, purple and green, bruised and hungry. It's come for Snow White, but she's gone. She's dead.

The baby-

Regina's last act before the curse takes her is to touch the swollen skin of Snows belly, sensing the child beneath. The baby lives, unborn, entombed within her mother. (Her name is Emma). Regina doesn't have time to cut her free, the curse rises, reaching, promising to take them all-

But the curse is hers. She sacrificed her father, she tore a hole in her heart for this. The curse will obey.

It cannot give life. Snow cannot live to see the glorious curse Regina built for her suffering. The baby needs a mother, a home, someone to give her life and Regina cannot, she scorched that long ago.

The wealth of lives swirl around her, stripped of their identities, ready to merge into their new minds, their new homes, and Regina plucks one. One of the strongest.

Emma will need that.

* * *

"It's too fast," the voice mutters, panting, trying to catch her breath. "Regina-"

Hands grab her shoulders, squeezing tight. There's still blood in the air, but it's mild, soft, almost an afterthought. Regina arrives in the new world on her knees on the tile floor of a room she doesn't recognize. It's black and white and smooth, clean, all hard edges and neatness.

The voice belongs to a face, to eyes that lock on hers, blue and bright. Maleficent is here, the curse made her Emma's mother. She will survive this, because she's stronger than Snow.

Maleficent's not meant to be above ground, to be here in Regina's office. That's this room, the curse provides for her. Mal should be underground, protecting the trigger, but this is more important.

Her hair falls soft to her shoulders, tumbling from the curls she had pinned up. They were in a meeting. (they weren't). Mal's the town treasurer, she also runs the bank; she's her best friend. Now she's giving birth to the daughter of her greatest enemy.

"You're all right," Regina says, part of her taking over, dragging her into the moment. "It'll be all right."

"This is supposed to take hours." Mal hisses, trying to breathe. "First babies are-"

"You always had to be extraordinary," Regina teases her. She had no idea what is involved in birthing a child, and even her cursed memories have no help for her. Something warm and wet spreads through Regina's tights, but it's not blood. Mal's not bleeding to death. Emma, Snow's Emma, can come into the world this way. She can live.

"Breathe."

Mal's attempt to reply is a tortured gasp, but she nods. "Okay."

"Stay with me."

Snow couldn't.

Without her magic, Regina can't sense Emma's life, can't feel her heartbeat, but Mal's body is determined to bring her forth. She will live.

The contractions crash into each other, hard, fast, full of a vigor from the other world. Mal's body wasn't pregnant before the curse, and perhaps the abruptness of this transition is all the harder for her because of it. Regina strips her strange clothing, setting aside her jacket because the baby will need something.

The baby will live.

Mal's head rests on her shoulder, slick against Regina's neck. Sweat beads on her skin, but her skin remains pink. Life doesn't pool onto the tiles beneath them. Time slips away, and a foreign part of Regina's mind suggests that she could call someone. Paramedics, whoever, whatever, they are.

She doesn't.

Mal's hands dig into her own, sharp and strong as claws. It hurts, because she's out of her mind, but she's still with her, she meets Regina's eyes again and again, sometimes she smiles. It was not like this for Snow. She must have faded, slipping away from her precious prince with each beat of her heart. Regina tries to summon her hatred, but it won't rise. Her eyes sting, and Mal can't possibly see her tears, she's too involved in her body, too sunk into the birth of her child.

Snow's child.

She will have a mother. She will be safe and loved; Mal can love far better than Regina. She forgives. Perhaps someday she'll even forgive Regina for this, for taking her body (she's the only one who could survive this).

There's something half-sexual in this, naked skin, panting, groaning, but pressure builds instead of pleasure, and Maleficent slips out of being able to speak. She's still here and her hands are strong. Regina knows her body, but it's different here, less warm, and there's no thrill of magic between them.

That connection's still there. Mal trusts her, half-sobbing when the next contraction threatens to overwhelm her again, but Regina holds her, strokes her face.

"Her name is Emma," Regina whispers to her. "That's what you're going to call her."

Did the curse give her memories of waiting? Of carrying this baby? Is it all a mass of twisted thoughts? Maleficent doesn't have the mind to worry about that, or who the curse will tell her this baby's father is, or why Regina knows her name.

That little half-smile promises that Emma will be loved. Regina remembers that hint of victory, the softness that she was so afraid of in Mal. She couldn't let herself be loved. Couldn't let that in, but Emma will need it.

Emma can have a mother. Maybe Snow would appreciate how much her daughter means, how precious she will be. Regina misses her, and it's not revenge, not missing that Snow will suffer, but the void, reaching out from within her heart.

Snow was meant to be here, but she's dead with her prince.

Regina steadies Mal on her hands and knees, whispering that she's so strong, so brave, and Emma's almost here. Her contractions have changed, ceased to be a relentless assault and become malleable. Instinct must tell her to push, because Regina can't guide her, and yet they stumble through. Perhaps this is a gift of the curse, part of Regina's happy ending is keeping this shred of Snow, honoring her last wish.

Regina cries, tears running down her face, echoing David's and Snow's. Maleficent's tears start anew because Emma's head is down, crowning, cresting the flesh that was so recently made her home.

"Don't rush," Regina murmurs, remembering horses delivering their foals in the barn and the steam in the morning. "She'll come."

Can Mal see through her mask? Does part of her know this is a lie, this baby has been forced on her, a last act of desperation? She holds on to Regina like truth, a rock in a stormy sea. Regina's chest aches, her stomach twists in sympathy, in grief. Maybe if she'd been faster, she could have-

"Breathe-" she commands, her mouth touching Mal's ear.

Snow should have suffered here, in this world, should have let Regina watch her pain, not her death.

"I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

It's the curse that makes Mal trust her. This isn't her, rather a personality constructed to fill a need: best friend, banker, town treasurer, and mother to a motherless girl. Regina can't love her, because she's not real (even though she clings to Regina, drawing on her strength). She couldn't love her in the other world because her heart was broken. Watching Snow die did not mend that, nor still the battle in her soul. Daniel is dead. Her mother is dead. Her father died in her hands.

Catching this baby will not mend her heart, crying into Mal's hair cannot bring Snow back to suffer, to watch this child grow up without knowing her.

Snow White is dead. The Evil Queen has had her revenge, and her heart should be light.

Should be free.

Her heart beats in tatters. Her breath comes as ragged as Mal's, catching in her throat, burning her chest. Emma slips into her hands, wet, red, hot and squirming. She's not even free before she cries, wailing.

"Shhh," Regina whispers, holding the baby to her chest. "You're safe now."

Born from death, the curse gave her life.

Regina hands her to Mal, stroking that slimy baby head as Mal clutches her to her chest. Stroking her cheek leaves a mark, and Regina kisses her on top of the bloody smear.

Mal smiles at her, her sobbing turning to laughter at Emma's little face. "Look at her."

There's no dagger for the cord, and they can't sit on the wet floor forever, but they can have this moment. Regina uses her jacket to cover the baby, watching Mal murmur to her.

This is a happy ending, a broken one, snatched from death itself, but Emma will be loved. Regina sits beside her, sharing the moment without belonging to it. She kisses Mal's forehead again, as she did Snow's, and Mal's too enamored with baby Emma to mind Regina's tears, which won't stop now.

"Thank you."

"Of course." Hollow words echo in her mouth, empty as her heart.

Mal's hand rubs some of her tears away, holding her cheek. She begs for Regina's eyes with her fingertips, making her look. For a moment, there's truth. Something true in all the lies. Mal loves baby Emma, but also loves her.

That shouldn't have carried. That emotion shouldn't be here. It can't.

Regina strokes Emma's baby fist, and there's truth in the way she clings to her finger. In that little pink mouth finding a breast, learning to eat, and the way she stares up at her mother, all seriousness with brand new eyes. Mal smiles down at her, cradling her.

"Thank you, Regina."

* * *

The second day in the new world is so much softer than the first. Regina goes to work, learning to write with the strange quills, on parchment that's too smooth. She picks up food at the diner and takes it to Mal's, because with a new baby, she won't cook. (even if she can, here).

They eat together, Emma asleep in Regina's arms, because Mal insists that she hold her.

Emma's a month old when they kiss over her cradle, their mouths finding each other as if they already know how their lips feel.

Emma learns to crawl on a blanket in the office, on Regina's living room floor, on the bed beside them. Her blonde curls look like her mother's, not Snow's (though Snow is her mother), and there are moments where Regina can almost forget, lose herself in Regina Mills, small town mayor, who's falling in love with her best friend.

Regina Mills, who fell.

Emma can walk on her chubby legs when they move in together, letting Mal's furniture go into storage as she brings Emma's things into Regina's house. Regina teaches herself to cook, watching Mal do paperwork on the island. It's always the same day for Mal, who doesn't age, who wakes up each morning with yesterday filed into the haze of cursed memories. She and Regina were friends, then lovers, then partners, and their lives intertwined. Fights carry over, but time doesn't pass for them.

It does for Emma, who laughs and grows, learning to copy the sounds of her mothers, to babble, then speak.

Mal and Regina walk her to the school on her first day, and she runs back, hugging them both before she disappears into the building with the other children. She loves horses, even though Regina can't resist buying her dragons, and they'll teach her to ride in the summer.

Regina's found a pony, and black and white one with a sweet temperament. Emma should learn to ride, Snow loved it when she was her age, as did Regina.

Mal brushes away tears, then gives up, pulling Regina in, hugging her close. "I know she'll be fine. She's so brave, and it's just school. She'll be home this afternoon, but I-"

"I know." Regina shifts in her arms, letting herself be closer. "It'll be good for her, finding her way in the world."

Mal laughs. "She's six. She thinks the world can be crossed in a day on a flying pony. If such things existed."

"Let her think they do. Dreams are too important to take from a child."

Lifting her chin, Mal kisses her, warm and full of promise. "She can dream she is the flying pony, as long as she's home at three."

They stop at Granny's, buying coffee on their way to City Hall. They work together, teasing each other because neither can go five minutes without thinking of Emma's little face and her blonde curls.

Mal takes her hand in the car and doesn't release it until they're standing in front of the school, waiting for Emma.

"Thank you," she says, looking at her shoes before she looks back up at Regina.

"For what?"

"For Emma, for this." Mal waves her hand across the town behind them. Her smile hurts to look at, it's so tentative, so raw.

Regina's heart thuds like thunder. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mal wraps her hands over her chest. "Of course, I'm just being sentimental." She shakes her head, letting the moment fade.

"Mommy!" Emma yells, running up to them. She throws herself at Mal, who scoops her up and spins her around.

"Hello, sweetheart." Mal holds her tight, smiling over her shoulder. "Ready to go home?"

Emma turns, beaming at Regina. "Yes! I made something for you, you and Regina."

"You did?"

"We had art," Emma says, slipping down so she can grab her backpack and pull her painting out. The crumpled piece of paper has washes of color who might be people. "See? That's you, and Mommy, and a castle, because castles are pretty."

The black and white mass with four legs must be the pony, in front of the castle.

"Is this your pony?"

"Yes!" Emma's smile grows even more. "I know what I want to call her."

"Oh you do?" Mal crouches down to her level, holding the painting as if it were priceless. "What?"

"Snow White," Emma says proudly. "She was in the story my teacher read us. She was a princess with black hair, like my pony."

Regina has to turn away, because she can't look at Emma and let her see her tears. Mal covers for her, for them, listening to Emma's stories of school as they walk to the car. Emma's buckled up in back before Mal comes to her, wrapping her arms around Regina.

"It doesn't matter how we got here, or what you did, what matters is that we're here, now, with a beautiful daughter, and I love you." Mal releases her, and nods towards the car. "Emma loves you."

Regina stares at her, searching her face for the truth. "You know?"

Mal nods, then kisses her. "I know, and I forgive you."

"Mal-"

"I forgave you long ago." She kisses her again then circles the car. "Come on, Emma's waiting."

Regina rests her hands on the Mercedes then looks up at the soft grey sky. Emma is everything to both of them, and she brought them together, brought life into Regina's heart, and if the curse shatters on her twenty-eighth birthday, Regina will face that.

She won't be alone.


End file.
